RALPH THINKS SERIOUSLY ABOUT CHANGING HIS NAME--GETS A LITTLE UNWILLING
JUSTICE DONE TO HIMSELF, AND GAINS MUCH INFORMATION--THE WHOLE WOUND UP
SUDDENLY AND SORROWFULLY.
It was nearly dark. As I sat for more than half an hour by the side of
the impenitent beauty, I could not conceive that she was in any danger.
Whilst she discoursed with me so fully, her voice was firm, though not
loud, and, were it not for a short and sudden check, sometimes in the
middle of a word, I should say that I never before heard her converse
more fluently or more musically.
Whilst she yet reclined, the servants brought in lights, and made
preparations for our little dinner, a small table being laid close to
Mrs Causand's couch. When this exquisite repast was ready, and Miss
Tremayne made her appearance, Mrs Causand rose, apparently much
renovated. She looked almost happy: without assistance, she walked from
her sofa, and took her place at the table.
"There, Fanny," said she, quite triumphantly--"and not a single attack!
This dear Ralph has surely brought health with him. Yesterday, this
exertion would have killed me."
"Do not, however," said the lady, "try yourself too much."
We dined cheerfully: she seemed to have forgotten her son, and I my
much-injured mother. After the dinner was concluded, and Miss Tremayne
had retired, and my hostess had returned to her sofa, she sent for her
writing-desk, and then proceeded with her narrative.
"Your mother, my dear Ralph, yearned for your society. She had saved a
considerable sum of money--she wished for a home, to procure which, she
married that little ugly, learned Frenchman, Cherfeuil--but even that
she did not do until it was currently reported, and generally believed,
that your father was dead."
"I admire the delicacy of the scruple--I honour her for it."
"Sip your wine, Ralph--you'll find it excellent--I will indulge in one
glass, let Dr Hewings say what he will--to your health, my little
lover, and may I soon hail you as Sir Ralph Rathelin!"
"How is it possible?"
"You shall hear. We were talking about your good mother. When she had
married this Cherfeuil, who was the French assistant at a large school,
she found out the agents to whom you were entrusted, and soon arranged
with them that you should be domesticated under her own roof--you were
removed to Stickenham, and she and you were happy."
"Oh, how happy!"
"Well, you know it was in those happy days that I had first the pleasure
of forming an acquaintance with the inimitable Ralph Rattlin."
"But why Rattlin?--my name must be either Daventry or Rathelin."
"Rathelin, of a surety--it was first of all corrupted to Rattlin by that
topmost of all top-sawyers, Joe Brandon--it having thus been so
established, for many reasons, concealment among the rest, your mother
thought it best for you to retain it. Now, Ralph, mark this--about
eight, or rather seven, months ago, I took a short trip to my native
country in Germany. Never was my health more redundant. I left your
mother prosperous and happy, and beautiful as ever--she had heard of
you, and heard much in your favour, though you never once condescended
to write to any one of us. Whilst I was in--your father returned, a
changed man--changed in everything, even in religion: he had turned
penitent and a Catholic; and so had his travelling companion, the very
man who had married him to your sweet mother."
"Then he was in holy orders?"
"He was."
"God of infinite justice, I thank you."
"The Reverend Mr Thomas came here to my very house, when I was away,
with a long and repentant letter from his patron--full of inquiries for
yourself; and for your mother, Lady Rathelin."
"Where is that inestimable letter?"
"Oh, where?" said the again agonised Mrs Causand. "Ralph, much
mischief was done in that absence--my boy, my lost William: he, whom you
know as Joshua Daunton, broke into his mother's house, rifled my
escritoir, and carried off some of my most important documents--that
unread letter among the number."
"But how know you its contents?" said I, breathless with agitation.
"By the tenor of these succeeding ones from Sir Reginald and his
priest."
She opened her desk, and gave me two letters from my father to her.
They were, as she described them, repentant, and spoke most honourably
and most fondly of my deceased mother--praying Mrs Causand most
earnestly to tell him of the happiness and the whereabouts of his wife.
"And you did, of course."
"No, Ralph, I did not--look at the dates. It was a fortnight after
these arrived before I returned home. I weep even now when I think of
it--three days before I returned your mother had died, almost suddenly."
"Ah, true, true!" said I, mournfully. But, a sudden pang of agony
seizing my inmost heart, I suddenly started up, and, seizing her roughly
by the hand, I said, sternly:
"Look me in the face, Madam--do you see any resemblance there to my
poor, poor mother?"
"Oh, very, very great--but why this violence?"
"Because I now understand the villainy that caused her death. Your son
murdered her--see in me her reproachful countenance--oh, Mrs Causand,
you and yours have been the bane, the ruin of me and mine."
"What do you mean by those horrible words? Ralph, beware, or you will
yourself commit a dastardly murder upon me, even as you stand there."
"Mrs Causand, I will be calm. I see it all. With the first letter of
Sir Reginald in his hand, he went to Stickenham; and, with the murderous
intent strong in his black bosom, he branded my mother with bigamy,
incensed the weak Frenchman against her, and, in twenty-four hours, did
the mortal work that years of injustice and injury could not effect."
"Good God, it must be so!--Ralph, I do not ask you to forgive him--but
pity his poor suffering mother--he has broken my heart--not, Ralph, in
the mystical, but in the actual, the physical sense. In the very hour
in which I returned home, I found a warrant had been issued for his
apprehension as a housebreaker; and the stony-hearted reprobate had the
cruelty to insult his mother by a letter glorying in the fact, at the
same time demanding a thousand pounds for his secrecy and the papers
that he had stolen. The shock was too much for me. I had an attack, a
fit--I know not what--I fell senseless to the earth--my heart has never
since beaten healthfully. Oh, perhaps, after all, it would be a
happiness for me to die!--Poor Elizabeth--my more than sister, my
friend!"
"But why do I waste my time here?" said I, starting up, and seizing my
hat. "The reptile is at work. Where lives Sir Reginald?--my demon--
like double may be there before me. He may personate me long enough to
kill my father and rifle his hoards. I must away--but, ere I go, know
that, with these abstracted papers, he sought me in the West Indies,
cheated me out of my name on my return to England, and, finally, waylaid
and attempted, with a low accomplice, to assassinate me on my return
from Stickenham."
"God of Heaven, let me die!--he could never have been son of mine--let
me know the horrid particulars."
"No--no--no--I must away--or more murders will be perpetrated."
"Stop, Ralph, a little moment--do not go unprovided. Take these and
these--he stole not all the documents--let me also give my testimony
under my own hand of your identity. It may be of infinite service to
you."
She then wrote a short letter to Sir Reginald, describing accurately my
present appearance, and vouching that I, and none other, was the
identical Ralph Rattlin, who was nursed by the Brandons, and born at
Reading.
"Take this, Ralph, and show it to Sir Reginald. I only ask one thing:
spare the life--only the life--of that unfortunate boy!--and in his,
spare mine--for I am unprepared to die!"
"The mercy that he showed my mother--"
I had proceeded no further in my cruel speech, when a great noise was
heard at the door, and two rough-looking Bow Street officers, attended
by the whole household, rushed into the room. They advanced towards the
upper end of this elegant sanctum. Mrs Causand sprang up from her
sofa, and, standing in all the majesty of her beauty, sternly demanded,
"What means this indignity?"
"Beg your ladyship's pardon, sorry to intrude--duty--never shy, that you
know, ma'am--only a search-warrant for one Joshua Daunton, alias
Sneaking Willie, alias Whitefaced--"
"Stop, no more of this ribaldry--you see he is not here--I know nothing
concerning him--of what is he accused?"
"Of forgery, housebreaking, and, with an accomplice, of an attempt to
murder a young gentleman, a naval officer of the name of Ralph Rattlin."
Mrs Causand turned to me sorrowfully, and exclaimed, "Oh, Ralph! was
this well done of you?" Her fortitude, her sudden accession of physical
strength, seemed to desert her at once; and she, who just before stood
forth the undaunted heroine, now sank upon her couch, the crushed
invalid. At length, she murmured forth, feebly, "Ralph, rid me of these
fellows."
I soon effected this. I told them that I was the culprit's principal
accuser; that I was assured he was not only not within the house, but I
verily believed many miles distant. They believed me, and respectfully
enough retired.
Miss Tremayne, the companion and nurse of the invalid, now with myself
stood over her. She had another attack upon the region of her heart:
and it was so long before she rallied, that we thought the fatal moment
had arrived. When she could again breathe freely, her colour did not,
as formerly, return to her cheeks. They wore an intense and transparent
whiteness, at once awful and beautiful. Yet she spoke calmly and
collectedly. I entreated to be permitted to depart--my intercessions
were seconded by the young lady. But the now cold hand of Mrs Causand
clasped mine so tightly, and the expression of her eyes was so
imploring, that I could not rudely break away from her.
"But a few short minutes," she exclaimed, "and then fare you well. I
feel worse than I ever yet remember--and very cold. It is not now the
complaint that has cast me down upon a sick-bed that seems invading the
very principle of life--a chilly faintness is coming over me--yet I dare
not lay my head upon my pillow, lest I never from thence lift it again.
Ralph, here is a warmth in your young blood--support me!"
I cradled her head upon my shoulder, and whispered to Miss Tremayne, who
immediately retired, to procure the speedy attendance of the physician.
"Are we alone, Ralph?" said the shuddering lady, with her eyes firmly
closed. "I have a horrid presentiment that my hour is approaching--
everything is so still around and within me. Every sensation seems
deserting me rapidly, but one--and that is a mother's feeling! You will
leave me here to die, amongst menials and strangers!"
"Miss Tremayne?" said I, soothingly.
"Is but a hired companion; engaged only since the occurrence of these
attacks. Yes, you will desert me to these--and for what, God of
retribution!--to hunt down the life of my only son! Will you, will you,
Ralph, do this over-cruel thing?"
"He has attempted mine--he still seeks it. Let us talk, let us think,
of other matters. Compose your mind with religious thoughts. Your
strength will rally during the night; to-morrow comes hope, the
consultation of physicians, and, with God's good blessings, life and
health."
"To hear, to know, that he is to die the death of the felon! Promise me
to forego your purpose, or let me die first!"
"I have sworn over the grave of my mother that the laws shall decide
this matter between us. If he escape, I forgive him, and may God
forgive him, too!"
"And must it come to this?" she sobbed forth in the bitterness of her
anguish, whilst the tears streamed down her cheeks from her closed
eyelids. "Will this cruel youth at length extort the horrible
confession!--it must be so--one pang--and it will be over. Let me
forego your support--lay me gently on the pillow, for you will loathe
me. A little while ago, and I told you I had been faithful to him--it
was a bitter falsehood--know, that my son, my abandoned William, is also
the son of your father--say, will his blood now be upon your hands?"
"Tell me, beautiful cause of all our miseries, does your miserable
offspring know this?"
"Yes," said she, very faintly.
"Yet he could seek my life--basely--but no matter. His blood shall
never stain my hand--I will not seek him--if he crosses my path, I will
avoid him--I will even assist him to escape to some country where,
unknown, he may, by a regenerated life, wipe out the dark catalogue of
his crimes, make his peace with man here, and with his God hereafter."
"Will you do all this, my generous, my good, my godlike Ralph?"
"You and God be my witnesses!"
She sprang up wildly from her apparent state of lethargy, clasped me
fervently in her arms, blessed me repeatedly, and then, in the midst of
her raptures, she cried out, "Oh, Ralph, you have renewed my being, you
have given me long years of life, and health, and happiness. You--" and
here she uttered a loud shriek, that reverberated through the mansion--
but it was cut short in the very midst--a thrilling, a horrible silence
ensued--she fell dead upon the couch.
I stood awe-struck over the beautiful corpse, as it lay placidly
extended, disfigured by no contortion, but on the contrary, a heavenly
repose in the features--a sad mockery of worldly vanity. Death had
arrayed himself in the last imported Parisian mode.
At that dying shriek, in rushed the household, headed by the physician,
and closely followed by the companion, with the hired nurses. Methought
that the doctor looked on this wreck of mortality with grim
satisfaction. "I knew it," said he, slowly; "and Doctor Phillimore is
nothing more than a solemn dunce. I told him that she would not survive
to be subjected to the consultation of the morrow. And how happens it,"
said he, turning fiercely to the companion and the nurses, "that my
patient was thus left alone with this stripling?"
"Stripling, sir!" said I.
"Young man, let us not make the chamber of death a hall of contention.
Tell me, Miss Tremayne, how comes my patient thus unattended, or rather,
thus ill attended?"
"It was her own positive command," said the young lady, in a faltering
voice.
"Ah! she was always imperious, always obstinate. There must have been
some exciting conversation between you, sir (turning to me), and the
lady; did you say anything to vex or grieve her?"
"On the contrary; she was expressing the most unbounded hope and
happiness when she died."
"And the name of God was not on her lips, the prayer for pardon not in
her heart, when she was snatched away."
I shook my head. "Well," said he, "it is a solemn end, and she was a
wilful lady. Do you know, Miss Tremayne, if she has any relations
living?--they should be sent for."
"I know of none. A person of distinction, whose name I am not at
liberty to mention, sometimes visited her. We had better send for her
solicitor."
Some other conversation took place, which I hardly noticed. The body
was adjusted on the couch, we left the room, and the door was locked.
As I walked quietly, almost stealthily, home, I felt stunned. Health
and mortality, death and life, seemed so fearfully jumbled together,
that I almost doubted whether I was not traversing a city of spirits.
My Achates stared at me when I described to him the late occurrences.
"So you have at length discovered him?" said he.
"I have--a voice almost from the grave has imparted to me all that I
wished to know--and something more. I have sprung from a beautiful
race--but we must not speak ill of kith and kin, must we, Pigtop?"
"For certain not. And, so your father actually did send that old lord
to look after you at your return from the West Indies. Well, that shows
some affection for you, at all events."
"The fruits of which affection Daunton is, no doubt, now reaping."
"Well, let us go and cut his throat, or rather, turn him over to the
hangman."
"No, Pigtop; I have promised his mother that I will not attempt his
life."
"But I have not."
"Humph! let us to roost. To-morrow, at break of day, we will be off for
Rathelin Hall. See that our arms are in order. And now to what rest
nature and good consciences will afford us."